Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/174

174  The loss of life, but not the gain of death. But hast thou by thy ceaseless prayers obtain'd Such token of acceptance with thy Lord, So fill'd each post of duty, so sustain'd All needful discipline, so deeply mourn'd Each burden of iniquity, that Death Comes as a favor'd messenger to lead To its bright heritage, the willing soul? —Searcher of hearts, thou knowest! Thou alone The hidden thought dost read, the daily act Note unforgetful. Take away the dross Of earthly principle, the gather'd film Of self-deluding hope, the love and hate Which have their root in dust, until the soul Regarding life and death with equal eye Absorbs its will in thine.

 

old Iona's ruins spread In shapeless fragments round, And where the crown'd and mighty dead Repose in cells profound, Where o'er Columba's buried towers The shrouding ivy steals, And moans the owl from cloister'd bowers A holy Teacher kneels. 